


The Balloon Intervention

by lovelycarcass



Category: SKAM (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Fluff, M/M, Mutual Pining, Secret Crush, The Balloon Squad (SKAM)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-20
Updated: 2017-07-31
Packaged: 2018-12-04 15:36:08
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 13,335
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11558199
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lovelycarcass/pseuds/lovelycarcass
Summary: “Dropping hints,” Elias repeats incredulously. “This guy is about as subtle as a bull in a china shop. His crush was just painfully oblivious.”“Can you believe he’d emptied the fucking tissue dispenser just to get his attention?” Mutta snorts.Or, Even wants to get Isak's attention and the Balloon Squad decide to take matters into their own hands.





	1. Chapter 1

**Saturday**

Isak has never particularly enjoyed Halloween. It’s been ages since he’s last gone trick or treating; the last time he’s dressed up was back when he had still been at Nissen. Much to his indignance, his friends have it in their heads that Isak had lost all sense of fun once they’d enrolled into UiO, and have been less than subtle with their plans to include Isak in their social events.

Which is why Isak is currently bored out of his mind, taking part in a fundraising event for the lame-ass _treasure-hunting club_.

It's an open secret that Jonas and Mahdi joined the club for the sole purpose of scoring weed, and that Magnus only ever pops by to chat with Vilde, the financial controller of the club. Suffice to say, Isak's friends have in mind a whole other type of "hunting".

To keep these efforts going, and with Halloween being one of the biggest events on the college's social calendar, the club members decided to hold a haunted house to raise funds.

The thing is, Isak isn’t even in the fucking treasure-hunting club.

But when he'd misplaced Mahdi’s stash of weed (which, to be perfectly fair, Isak hadn’t indicated a word of interest in holding the bag for him), the boys simply decided that the best mode of repayment was for Isak to play a ghost in the House of Horrors that they have been organizing for the past semester.

Now that Isak is thinking more deeply, it's probably not a stretch to surmise that everything was a great big web of deception orchestrated by Jonas and Mahdi – with a dash of Magnus’ opinion. And for the past three hours, said friends are nowhere in sight.

Isak is practically itching in boredom.

He scratches his costume irritably, feeling the hair at the nape of his neck curl as perspiration dots his skin. It’s his last shift of the night, and Isak just wants to take a goddamn bath and go home. The chemistry assignment is weighing on his mind and he immediately brushes the nagging thought away because he can already hear Jonas’ voice in his head, telling him to chill the fuck out and stop fucking thinking of his assignments for once. 

Huffing loudly, Isak cracks his neck and rolls his shoulders, letting his eyes wander as he awaits the crackly announcement over the public service speaker, which will alert the ghosts on duty of the next group of thrill-seekers. He has to admit – with a grudging respect - that Mahdi has done a pretty good job setting up the haunted house. It is Egypt-inspired this year, with pharaoh-ghosts and kohl-eyed queens and mummies with creepy, red eyes (colored contact lenses, of course). Isak is a ghostly version of Julius Caesar, with too much white paint on his face and dramatic fake blood running down his cheeks. His whole section has been darkened with red cloth cutting the lights, casting the place in a funky, bloody glow. 

Playing ghost isn’t as easy as one would expect, and Isak has had to bite his tongue several times when he almost gives up midway and offers to pay Mahdi for the weed instead. For one, he’s had to touch up the stupid face paint multiple times during the night, and now his face is caked with so much crap that he can feel his skin suffocating beneath all the fake blood. He might also have gone a tad overboard in his ghostly endeavours - considering the handful of people who have threatened to punch him after being on the receiving end of Isak's scare efforts. Jonas takes their anti-violence policy pretty seriously, though, and even breaks up an almost-fight when Isak inadvertently provokes an unruly thrill-seeker by screaming too loudly in his ear. 

With a big sigh, Isak cracks his knuckles, shifting his weight on his feet lazily. He’s only got one spare torch with him, and he flickers it on and off as he checks the time on his watch. 

Ten more minutes. _Ten fucking minutes_ and Isak will finally be out of this fucking place where his skin can finally breathe.

The intercom crackles, declaring that their last group of thrill-seekers for the night will be entering the house. He can already hear the faint voices of people play-fighting and ribbing one another near the first section. The ghostly soundtrack that Jonas has ripped from The Mummy movies plays softly over the speakers.

He lets the rhythmic beats wash over him as he strains his ears for sounds of people approaching. He yawns and blinks away the mist in his eyes. Some kind of a playful scuffle happens somewhere right before Isak’s section, and before he can prepare himself, a group of about four boys whizz past his hiding spot without as much as a backward glance. Isak gapes uselessly as he spies on the boys from his corner. They make a right turn out of his section before he can even make a sound.

Cracking his knees, Isak slides out of his spot and rolls his head around, only to come face to face with a ghost in white.

He very nearly screams.

After the initial shock dissipates, Isak allows himself to take in more details. He discovers to his relief that the ghost is, in fact, a boy. A distressingly superficial part of his brain notes that the boy is very tall – taller than Isak’s 183cm – and that he’s got wonderfully broad, sloping shoulders.

Realisation dawns that the boy isn’t one of their ghosts - he isn’t even wearing a ghost costume. A white nightgown is hanging off his shoulders and his hair and face are partially obscured by a cascading, white wig. Briefly, Isak presumes that the boy is either masquerading as an unfairly attractive old man, or as Santa in his nightgown. 

He only catches himself staring when a faint crackle of static interrupts the funky Egyptian soundtrack.

A split-second later, he quickly recovers his ghostly persona.

“Boo,” he says. Uselessly, belatedly.

For a terrible, heart-stopping moment, Isak and the boy stare silently at each other.

A snort, and then a bubble of laughter slips out of the boy.

The sound bounces off the walls and Isak creases his forehead in dismay at the responding swoop in his belly. The boy is still snickering, doubled over, hands clutching the sides of his nightgown. Isak suddenly feels too warm. His skin prickles.

Catching a breath, the boy sneaks a look at him, registers his expression and his own face falls.

“I didn’t mean to laugh at you, I just - ”

The intercom crackles again, and the Egyptian beats get cut off. 

“Alright guys, that’s a wrap,” Jonas’ voice comes over the speakers. “Thanks for all the help. Post-mortem will be held in the club’s activities room in twenty, so wash up and we’ll see you there.”

Isak shrugs, looking away as he packs up his things.

“I, er -” The boy tries to say.

“Dude, where the fuck are you? Did you get lost in there?” Someone calls from the exit. Whooping laughter follows, and the boy's eyes flash with mild irritation at the interruption.

He swivels his head around and looks back at Isak. Then, he steps away and turns on his heel with a regretful groan.

Half a second later, the boy stops, hesitates, and glances at Isak again. With a winning smile, he calls over his shoulder, “See you around!”

It is a mere ten minutes later when Isak sees him again.

- 

Scraping off the last bit of face paint and scrubbing at his raw skin, Isak hisses quietly when his skin starts to burn from his aggression. He is in one of the farthest bathrooms from the haunted house, so that he can wash up in peace, without encountering any other ghosts or thrill-seekers.

Midway through his intense exfoliation, he registers someone else entering the bathroom. He doesn’t hear any one using the urinals or entering the stalls, but he doesn't think too deeply about what this means. His eyes and face are covered in foam when he realizes that the newcomer is using the sink to wash his hands beside him.

Splashing his face with water, he glances at his reflection absently and catches sight of a familiar white nightgown at the corner of his eye. 

In slight disbelief, Isak turns his head slowly . Sure enough, White Santa is pulling out tissues nonchalantly from the dispenser near the sinks.

The boy isn’t wearing his wig anymore, and Isak stares uselessly at the mop of unruly, gold hair glinting softly in the bright light. He trails his eyes downwards and his stomach flips.

White Santa sans wig is possibly the most attractive guy Isak has ever laid eyes on, with his angular jaw, bright blue eyes, and pale, slightly freckled skin.

He doesn’t acknowledge Isak’s presence and Isak hazards a guess that White Santa - quite possibly - hasn’t recognized him after all. It isn’t a stretch, since Isak is out of costume and his face is free from gory face paint.

His frown deepens when he realizes that White Santa is pulling an excessive amount of tissues out of the dispenser. In fact, he is reaching out for the last piece, wiping his face with a huge cloud of tissues in his hands.

Isak is slightly unnerved to discover that he still finds White Santa incredibly attractive, even after the realization that the good-looking guy isn’t the most environmentally-friendly person. He hasn’t really thought of himself as a superficial guy until this very moment.

Then, White Santa flickers his impossibly blue eyes towards Isak, raising his eyebrows at his distressed expression. “Oh, did you also need tissues?”

Without waiting for a reply, White Santa fishes out a relatively dry piece of tissue from the bin and holds it out for Isak.

With his face still dripping with water, Isak snags the tissue and nods curtly in thanks. He strides out of the bathroom, his heart pounding and his head spinning.

* * *

 

**Sunday**

"This year's going to be a good one."

Isak feels his cheeks soften as he glances over to see his mother's earth-stained fingers along the curve of a tiny fruit. His jaw still aches a little from gritting his teeth too hard while while helping his mother clear the weeds in her gardens. He goes to kneel beside her, brushing off dirt from his palms, and hums in agreement. It's a perfectly round tomato.

They share a secret smile, and Isak feels his shoulders relax. Then, he notices bits of white paint still embedded under his nails.

When he closes his eyelids, he imagines bright blue eyes, glowing in the dim light like stars.

It’s as though Saturday has left traces on him, sneaking under his skin. Tucked in secret places and awaiting his rediscovery.

* * *

 

**Monday**

After the Halloween celebrations, Isak slips back into college life as how he would slip into an old, worn t-shirt. Routine has become a steady weight in his palms. He's set his heart on studying veterinary science, and Isak hopes to open a little clinic some day. His friends don’t quite understand it, but he has stopped making any plans since his family fell apart when his mother was diagnosed with schizophrenia. It is therefore a pretty big deal to him - that new plans have stopped feeling like slippery things; silver-bellied fish that would wriggle out of his desperate, trembling hands.

Things have improved since he’s left Nissen and started going to UiO, and Isak feels like he has stepped into a brand new skin in college. He is no longer the closeted gay who fixates too much on outsiders’ opinions, nor is he the grumpy teenager who can’t stand to be at home with his mother.

Ok, so his friends might still have things to say about his grumpiness, but that’s beside the point.

So, Isak grows into his new routine, and he is positively embracing it. Like clockwork, Isak goes to school, then to his work at the café, then back home where he lives with his mother. Day after day, without fail. Sometimes, when he doesn’t have classes, Isak slips into the library to do his readings. Other times, when he doesn’t have a shift at the café, Isak volunteers at a neighborhood animal shelter. He almost wishes he could send a message from the future to the old Isak, shake him out of his teen-angst stupors and tell him, _See? We can be happy._

But after the Halloween weekend, a yet unknown force begins to rock his carefully crafted routine. Isak slowly discovers that change comes in little symptoms. 

The first symptom arrives in the form of a certain Adam Malik.

Isak is casually strolling towards the cafeteria near his biology lecture, scanning the daily selection of bread, when a dark haired boy skids to a stop beside him.

“What are you going to get?” The boy nods towards the overhead menu.

Isak ignores him at first, thinking he's talking to someone else, but he realizes that the boy is staring at him and awaiting a response, so he purses his lips before replying, “Er, probably a cheese toastie.”

“Cheese toastie,” The boy raises his eyebrows thoughtfully. “Interesting choice. No special dressing?”

Isak wants to ask him why he thinks cheese toasties can be interesting, because honestly it’s his go-to order when he is too lazy to think of getting anything, and not particularly because he likes it. But he bites back his question and answers instead, “Er, sometimes I go for the cardamom when I’m feeling adventurous.”

“Not feeling adventurous today, then?” The boy smiles almost wolfishly, flashing all his teeth.

“Sorry, but do I know you?” Isak is scanning through his memories of faces in his classes. In the large lecture halls and sizeable seminar classes of his courses, it’s practically impossible to remember everyone, but from the casual way the boy has approached him, Isak wonders if he might have spoken to him before, but has rudely forgotten him somehow. The thing is, Isak often prides himself on having an excellent memory and he's pretty sure the boy is entirely new.

“Not really,” The boy admits after a pause. Then he sticks out a hand. “Adam Malik.”

Isak studies the hand, glances back up at Adam, and finally shakes the outstretched hand. “Isak Valtersen.”

“Nice meeting you, Isak,” Adam smiles boyishly. There’s a split-second when Isak wonders if Adam might be hitting on him, but he shakes off the thought furiously. _Seriously_ , what’s wrong with him? 

“Nice to meet you too,” Isak replies, offering a genuine grin.

They make their separate orders, and Adam starts chattering about how first impressions are incredibly important, and how he can already foresee that they’re going to be great friends. He is rambling about some friend of his that completely screwed up his first impression with his crush and Isak is nodding absently as he retrieves his cheese toastie.

“Sometimes a little adventure can bring nice surprises, don’t you think?” Adam says pleasantly, snagging his order from the counter. Then he holds out his sandwich order, and Isak grabs it distractedly.

“Just a feeling I have, Isak. From a new friend,” Adam winks.

Isak creases his forehead, watching his new friend lope across the hall. He opens the bag of Adam’s sandwich order, and the distinctive scent of cardamom drifts across his face.

_

Isak is still thinking about Adam’s cryptic words when he starts his shift at the café near his university. Café Kose is one of those hipster, trendy spots where many of UiO’s students like to get their coffee. Isak had been a quiet lurker at the café himself, until he'd decided to apply for a job in the beginning of the semester.

He has the strangest feeling that Adam had been trying to tell him something, but he can’t quite figure out what. Then, he doesn't get time to think at all when the late noon crowd filters in and he starts taking orders on autopilot.

He nearly swallows his tongue when he spots none other than White Santa near the back of the line, and he punches in the wrong order for an unsuspecting customer. Hastily, he voids the error and keys in the correct order, ducking his face behind the cash register.

 _Shit,_ he thinks to himself. _How could anyone look this adorable in casual wear?_ Unlike Halloween night, his hair has been artfully styled into a quiff, making his jawline sinfully sharp. He's wearing an unassuming denim jacket that flatters his blue eyes and his pale skin, and therefore doesn't look unassuming at all. As he inches towards the front of line, Isak realizes that White Santa is wearing a t-shirt featuring the lyrics of one of his favorite rappers, Nas.

Isak has to tear his eyes away from him. 

One by one, he clears his orders with his heart threatening to break out of his chest until White Santa arrives at the front of the line.

“What can I get you?” Isak says, his voice ringing unpleasantly in his ears.

White Santa is gazing at him unseeingly, as if lost in thought. _Well,_ Isak muses, _maybe he’s still thinking of his coffee order._

Nine times out of ten, customers gets to the front of the line only to have second thoughts.

He finds himself studying White Santa's face intently. It's the first time he's looking at him up close and in the clarity of daylight. Helpless against those startling irises, Isak feels himself unwittingly get sucked into the deep vortex of White Santa’s swimming pool eyes.

When Isak realizes that they have been gaping dumbly at each other, he clears his head and asks, “Er, can I take your order?”

“Oh, sorry,” White Santa flushes, the tips of his ears reddening adorably. Isak nearly chokes on his saliva. “Er, the…white chocolate latte, please.”

“One white chocolate latte,” Isak repeats his order, punching it in. “Your name, please?”

“Er, Even Bech Næsheim.” 

Isak can’t help shooting him an odd look. No one really gives their full name for coffee orders, but at least now Isak knows the name of White Santa, so he can stop calling him White Santa in his head. 

“Great, Even Bech Næsheim,” Isak smiles pleasantly. He rattles off the cost of the drink, and Even swiftly makes his payment. But instead of making his way to the line waiting for their coffee orders to be prepared, Even lingers around the counter. 

“Er - ” he begins.

Mari, his manager, pops out from the back and glances towards Even distractedly. “Sir, please wait for your coffee order in the line at the end.”

Isak watches as Even nods jerkily, almost scampering away in fright.

He rings up the next few customers in line, keeping an eye surreptitiously on Even as he waits for his coffee at the side of the counter.

They don’t speak again that day.

* * *

 

**Tuesday**

There must be something on Isak’s face, because he catches several unfamiliar faces darting little glances at him throughout the day.

But when he checks his reflection with his phone, he doesn't see anything remarkable or out of the ordinary. 

While waiting for Jonas, Mahdi and Magnus for their weekly lunch, he bumps into Adam at the cafeteria again. This time, Adam arrives with his friend in tow.

“I’m Elias Bakkoush,” Adam's friend smiles, grinning at Isak like he has a secret. There is something familiar about him, and Isak frantically rifles through his brain for memories of Elias’ brown eyes and buzz cut. He narrows his eyes, wondering if he could be one of the people spying on him from around the corner before he'd slipped into his morning class, but Elias merely looks at him steadily.

“Hi Elias,” Isak smiles politely. “I have a friend from Nissen who’s got the same family name.”

“My sister also went to Nissen,” Elias nods, widening his grin. “No wonder you looked familiar. You must be Sana’s friend. I think you’ve been around our place a few times.” 

“Small world!” Adam chortles, clapping Isak on his back like they were old friends.

Isak offers Adam a quick smile before widening his eyes in surprise. “Yeah, that’s right. I heard she’s studying in Turkey now. How’s she?”

“She’s great,” Elias raises his eyebrows. “My parents miss her. I think she’s coming back for a vacation pretty soon. You should come to our place and hang out. I’m sure she’d love to see you.”

Isak startles slightly at the invitation. He was pretty close to Sana when they had biology class together, but he can count on one hand the number of times he’s dropped by her house. 

“Sure,” Isak grins weakly.

“Great,” Elias brightens. He holds out his phone. “How about you give me your number, and I’ll contact you when Sana’s back? We can arrange something then.” 

Adam nods vigorously, nodding towards Elias’ phone. “Sounds good, I’ll be there too, Isak.” 

Taken aback by his forwardness, Isak eyes Elias and Adam warily. He’s about to point out that Sana probably still has his number, but he doesn't want to sound unfriendly. He studies the black iPhone in Elias’ palm critically. Heck, Isak’s an adult. He can take a friendly invitation. 

“Ok,” Isak finally says. He takes the phone and keys in his number carefully, leaving the entry of the contact name blank. Maybe Elias will save him as Isak, Sana’s friend. Or Isak, Adam’s friend. Or Isak, random person I met in the cafeteria whom I decided to invite to my home.

“So, what do you usually do after classes?” Adam asks, snatching Elias’ phone and playing with it absently.

“Well, on Tuesdays I don’t have work at the café. So I usually volunteer at an animal shelter.”

“That’s pretty cool,” Elias tips his head, nodding thoughtfully to himself. “And where’s this animal shelter that you usually go to?”

“Er,” Isak clears his throat. “It’s pretty near my place.”

“Oh, right, that’s near the kollektiv? Where Sana’s friend Noora used to stay?” Elias asks casually. 

“I don’t stay at the kollektiv anymore,” Isak nods. “Now I’ve moved back home. It’s much closer to UiO than the kollektiv, and it helps that I’m home with my mother.” Isak pauses. “She’s not well, sometimes.”

He cuts himself off before he divulges his personal details too excessively. There is something about the way Elias carries himself that makes him speak his mind, before realising that he may have over-shared.

“Oh,” Adam says. “Sorry to hear that.”

“Oh no, she’s much better now,” Isak gives him a weak smile. “It’s just, I feel better when I can look after her.”

“That’s very generous of you, Isak,” Elias notes. Isak coughs awkwardly, waving away his compliment.

He doesn’t really know why Elias and Adam are so interested in conversing with him and learning about his boring life. But they seem genuine in their friendly intentions, and Isak thinks he’s usually a pretty good judge of character, so he eventually relaxes.

“See you around, Isak,” Elias grins. He loops an arm around Adam’s shoulder, and they wave maniacally back at Isak before skipping away.

Isak stands dumbly in the middle of the cafeteria.

He only realises belatedly that Elias and Adam never ordered anything. Did they make a special trip to see him, then? He walks out of the cafeteria and makes a second realisation. How had Elias known that he’d lived in the kollektiv with Noora?

Then, he brushes off the weird tingle going up his spine. He’s not usually a suspicious person, but too much Stephen King can do that to you. Sana probably talks to her brother about him, or something. 

_

Outwardly, Isak claims not to play favourites, but he loves the company of Olaf the golden retriever best. He hums as he brushes soft, golden hair, feeling the low thrum of Olaf’s rapid breaths under his palm, and enjoying the simple comfort beneath his fingertips.

He’d stumbled upon the animal shelter when he’d been running away from home. Olaf had just been abandoned by his owners and was left to fend for himself in the streets, and Isak found himself connecting with the gentle dog immediately.

When he’d been the most helpless, and could speak to no one – not even Jonas – Olaf had been the one to quietly accompany him while he tried desperately to keep afloat. He only started to volunteer at the shelter on a weekly basis after he started going to UiO. 

Given Olaf's age, there is low chance of the dog being adopted. Isak wants terribly to offer Olaf a warm home – possibly his last chance of ever having a family – but with his mother’s unpredictable moods, he realises that Olaf might be better off with the shelter, where he’s at least fed regularly and has other friends. So, he tries to visit as often as he can, to offer Olaf a home in a form of a friend instead of a physical place.

He’s laughing as Olaf shakes his wet fur playfully, splashing him with water, when he hears the shelter owner, Anders, speaking lowly to someone.

When he finally dries Olaf off and emerges from the house, he nearly stumbles in shock at the sight of White Santa – Even – in all his all long-limbed glory and casual disarray.

“Isak,” Anders grins at him easily. “Even goes to your school too, did you know that?”

“What’s he doing here?” Isak mumbles, feeling his face heat up. 

“He wants to be a new volunteer,” Anders tells him. “You’re one of our oldest volunteers, so I’ll leave you to speak to him. Tell him what we’re all about. Hopefully keep him wanting to come back!”

He claps Isak on the shoulder and mutters something about the cats, leaving Isak standing awkwardly at the front yard of the animal shelter.

“Do you have any experience?” Isak finally asks.

“Experience?”

“You know, caring for animals. Do you have a pet?”

“Um, I used to have a goldfish named Henrik,” Even rubs his neck sheepishly. “Does that count?”

Isak frowns, looks up at Even. The blue-eyed boy widens his eyes imperceptibly when he meets his gaze. 

“What do you hope to achieve here?” He demands.

“Achieve?” Even darts his eyes around quickly. “I wanted to experience helping out at an animal shelter. And I er, I’ve always liked dogs. I just…couldn’t help it that I was allergic.”

“You’re allergic?” Isak raises his voice.

“Oh, don’t worry,” Even grins suddenly. “I’m taking medication for that. Shouldn’t be too bad.” 

“My concern is that you’re not here for the right reasons,” Isak replies, his tone curt. “Most of these animals have been abandoned, or abused. They need people who genuinely care, and not for someone who just wants to have some fun, drop by a couple of times and then never show up again.”

“That’s not -”

“Look, I don’t know why you’re here,” Isak cuts in, feeling his irritation boil over. “Anders is usually a lot more accepting of newcomers. He doesn’t mind volunteers who come and go because he thinks that we need all the help we can get. But I think differently. I think it’s worse to offer hope to someone who desperately wants it, only to retract it again. These animals don’t deserve that.”

Even stares at him for a long while.

“You’re right,” he finally sighs. “I guess I still need to prove that I’m serious.”

“You don’t need to prove anything,” Isak nearly yells. “This isn’t a place for you to test your abilities. I’m not going to…waste my time training you only for you to disappear when it gets too much. It doesn’t help that you’ve never had experience.” 

Even recoils visibly. Releasing a long breath, he levels Isak with an unreadable expression.

“We don’t all start out knowing what we want, or what we are capable of,” Even says, his blue eyes fixated on him. “But sometimes we deserve a little chance, or a bit of help, don’t you think?” 

Isak’s tongue feels heavy in his mouth. His shirt clings onto his skin uncomfortably; he is suddenly too hot.

“I think…I’ll just go for now.” Even mumbles, looking at his feet. He turns on his heel, hesitates mid-turn, and utters a soft “see you around”.

Isak takes a step forward, but hastily shuffles backwards again. He stares wordlessly at Even's retreating back, his arms hanging uselessly by his sides.

* * *

 

  **Wednesday**

Isak doesn't have classes on Wednesday, so he packs his laptop and his books and camps out at the library. The UiO library is a pretty short trip from his house, and he usually finds it to be a more conducive environment for his studying.

His chemistry assignment is due by the end of the week, and Isak is less than mid-way through with it. It is why he has to decline Jonas’ invitation to go to the skate park; what could have been their first time back in a long while.

He is pecking at his keyboard furiously, the clacking sounds of the delete key grating on his nerves as he watches the black print appear and disappear on his screen.

“What did your laptop do to you?”

Isak glances up to see an amused smirk. He takes in the rest of the face. The speaker has floppy, dark hair, a boyish face and puppy-dog eyes. It is a face he doesn’t recognise, but looks vaguely familiar. Probably someone from UiO.

Isak stills his fingers, cracks his knuckles. He flashes a sheepish smile. “It’s not my laptop’s fault. It’s just bearing the brunt of my frustration for Chemistry.” 

Puppy Eyes laughs.

“Mind if I join you? My friend and I have a killer paper to write for class,” Puppy Eyes crumples in distress at the mention of the paper, and Isak shoots him a sympathetic look. 

“Sure,” Isak grins. He shifts his things around on the table and the table-sharer sinks into the chair diagonally opposite Isak gratefully.

“Hey Mikael, I found a free table just over by the - ” A new voice pierces through the quiet, breaking off abruptly.

Isak and Puppy Eyes look up simultaneously. 

It’s Even Bech Næsheim.

Isak can hear him suck in a sharp breath as he takes in Isak and his friend, casually sprawled on opposite ends of the study table.

Licking his lips, Isak forces a smile, “Well, it’s been fun sharing a table with you.” 

Puppy Eyes – Mikael – widens his eyes in alarm. “No, no, we’re staying.” He shoots an incredulous look at Even and jerks his head viciously, beckoning him over to join them. 

Even’s eyes dart frantically from Mikael to Isak in an almost comical manner, before he sinks into the seat directly opposite Isak.

“I hope you don’t mind,” Mikael says in a loud whisper. “It’s just – This place has better lighting.”

Isak nods slowly, glancing towards the open window by the table in understanding. “Sure, I don’t mind.”

When Even offers him a tentative smile, Isak feels a sting of shame at the way he’d lashed out yesterday. It was completely uncalled for. While he still stands his ground on his views, Even didn’t deserve Isak taking out his frustration on him. He'd seen young, impressionable volunteers who had been eager to help at the shelter, convinced of their own altruistic intentions, only to be let down time and time again by unfulfilled promises. 

And he had immediately - unfairly - lumped Even together with those volunteers without as much as a chance.

Isak concedes internally that he could have been gentler with his words. After all, not too long ago, Isak had been the one in Even’s shoes, and Anders had been more than kind to him despite his inexperience. 

With a rush of inspiration, Isak grabs his notebook and scribbles a line quickly. _Sorry about yesterday. I was being an ass._ _You didn’t deserve it._ Biting his lip, he darts a quick glance over to Mikael, who is bent over his books, before sliding his note across the table discreetly. 

Even jerks in surprise at the sudden movement. He looks at Isak curiously before dropping his eyes on his notebook. The tiniest smile graces his face, and Isak quickly averts his gaze. 

His notebook comes sliding across the table again, and Isak flicks his eyes towards it. _Don't worry about it, I get it. You must love those animals._  

They share a look of understanding, Isak dipping his head in a slight nod, before he drops his head again.

Gripping his pen, he stares at Even’s handwriting, in its looping curves and round edges. Below the words, Isak drags his pen across the page hastily, his chicken-scratch penmanship a sharp contrast to Even’s cursive script. He reads his words again mentally:  _Are you –_ Isak pauses. Shaking his head, Isak snaps his notebook shut. He slips the book under his arm and goes back to work.

Now that the tension from their brief encounter yesterday has dissipated, Isak is suddenly hyper-aware of Even’s absurdly magnetic presence. He forces himself to concentrate on his work, ignoring the fact that an incredibly attractive boy is sitting opposite him, close enough to touch. He is still trying to completely disregard how deliciously rumpled Even looks in his soft grey hoodie when someone clears his throat.

Isak snaps his head up at the sound, only to see Mikael staring – no, glaring – pointedly at Even, who is in turn, staring daggers at his own laptop. The tips of his ears are red again.

They are having a silent conversation with gritted teeth and locked jaws and knitted brows. It’s something he’s familiar with; he used to do this a lot with Jonas, and not even Mahdi or Magnus could decode their facial quirks. It’s a mode of communication between best friends, and Isak smiles softly as he looks back down at his assignment.

His mood dampens immediately. Scowling at his thesis, he jabs violently at his keypad as he eases back into work-mode.

“Er, I’m going to get us drinks. Do you want anything, Isak?” Even asks.

Isak nearly gets whiplash when he jerks his head up. Even is addressing him. Those impossible eyes are fixated on him. His brain is screaming at him to say something.

“Um, no it’s ok,” Isak mumbles, feeling his cheeks burn. He quickly averts his gaze and frowns at his laptop.

“Oh.”

Mikael groans out loud, startling Isak slightly. He glances over to see him slumped over his notes. Must be some killer paper. 

After Even turns on his heel and leaves, Isak ponders the strange note of disappointment in Even’s tone. There’s a coffee shop attached to the library, and it’s the only place that sells drinks permitted for consumption in the reading room.

The thing is, Isak has been trying to cut down on his caffeine intake. It doesn’t help that he’s working at a café, and in the past two months of work he’s been drinking so much coffee that he’s even desensitized himself from caffeine. It doesn't do anything for him when he wants to stay awake at night to study.

“You work at the café outside campus, don’t you?” Mikael asks suddenly.

“Er, yeah,” Isak widens his eyes. “How did you know?”

“I’m friends with Adam and Elias. They mentioned it in passing.”

“Oh,” Isak scrunches his face. He doesn’t know how he feels about Adam and Elias talking about him to Mikael, especially when he doesn’t even know the guy.

He pictures the boys randomly mentioning Isak in the middle of a conversation. He can’t imagine why they would discuss him. 

“I didn’t know you were friends,” Isak admits, chewing on his lip.

“You should hang out with us,” Mikael declares in sudden inspiration. “You seem like a cool person.”

Isak only nods dumbly in response.

When Even gets back, Isak throws himself into his work. They spend hours working in companionable silence, and Isak finally manages to wheedle out a decent concluding paragraph for his thesis. He didn’t think he had to do so much writing in a science course.

When he finally slides his laptop close and gathers his things to leave, Even and Mikael shoot him matching, panicked looks.

“You’re leaving?” Even says, a hint of desperation in his tone.

“Er, yeah. I’m having dinner with my mother.” Isak replies, tacking on the last bit of information unnecessarily.

“Do you study here every Wednesday?” Mikael asks, adopting a casual tone and twirling a pen round his fingers. 

“Pretty much,” Isak nods, slinging his bag over his shoulders. 

“Ok, maybe we’ll catch you around,” he smiles.

“Yeah,” Isak pauses, flicking a glance towards Even. “Maybe.”

_

 

A nagging feeling in Isak’s chest takes root but he can’t quite tell what it’s trying to say.

* * *

 

 

**Thursday**

On Thursday, the strange feeling sprouts into a constant itch. It tickles at his ribs, and Isak keeps having the strangest thought that he's missing something; he's even gone over his planner a few times to make sure he didn't forget any important appointments. 

He is in the cafeteria, chewing on his cardamom bread and highlighting his notes with his free hand, feet crossed at the ankles. 

Adam comes to his table and slides across him with a devious grin. Then, Elias turns up and claps his shoulder in a friendly greeting. Immediately after, Mikael darts across the hall and sinks into the seat beside him. 

Then, a fourth guy, who introduces himself as Mutta, grabs the seat opposite him. Isak swears he’s seen this guy somewhere. He’s got a pair of deep-set eyes and full, thick lips.

He also can’t help feeling like he’s been ambushed. 

“Hello, Isak,” Mutta says, sliding a drink across the table towards Isak. 

Isak eyes the bottled drink suspiciously. It’s black tea; his regular drink order when he’s not in the mood for coffee but can’t resist his daily caffeine shot. “Is this for me?” 

“Sure is,” Mutta replies cheerily. “I’m so mad I’m the last to meet you. My classes have been crazy the past few days.” Then he frowns to himself. “Well, ok, Yousef’s the last, not me. Since he’s still vacationing in Turkey.”

Then his expression clears and he smiles at Isak, “Anyway, have the drink. It’s an apology gift”

There are so many things to pick out from Mutta’s words, Isak’s mind can’t quite concentrate. First of all, what does he mean by meet him? Second of all, why the need for the apology? And third of all, what’s with the drink? And how does he even know that Isak likes black tea? 

“The last to do what?” Isak echoes, swiveling his head around to see four pairs of eyes glittering at him.

“How’s your week so far?” Adam says instead. He eyes Isak’s bread of choice and nods approvingly.

“It’s been alright,” Isak says slowly. He studies the four faces critically. Then, recognition dawns suddenly. “Oh! You were the ones at the House of Horrors; on Halloween night.” 

Mikael snorts in a disbelief, and Elias widens his eyes at him. “That’s where you remember us from?” 

“Yeah,” Isak trails off uncertainly. Did he remember the wrong people? “Am I mistaken?”

“No, no,” Mutta waves his hand. “We were there. You’re absolutely right.”

Adam fails to hold back a hysterical giggle and Isak frowns in puzzlement. “What’s wrong?”

“It’s just that – you’re much less observant than we’d thought,” Mutta mutters, but his smile lessens the sting of his words.

The words swirl in Isak’s head, but they don’t seem to make much sense. What’s there to observe?

Before he can comment, another figure emerges in his peripheral vision.

Even stops short, staring at Isak’s table and his four friends with a strange look of outrage on his face.

“Guys, what are you doing here?” Even is gritting his teeth, his shoulders stiff and unrelenting. 

“Just chilling with our friend Isak,” Adam grins beatifically. He addresses Isak, “Have you met our other friend, Even?” 

Isak flicks his eyes towards Even, and back at the four pairs of dark eyes, swallowing the lump in his throat nervously. “Yeah.”

“I’m sure Isak doesn't want to be bothered when he’s studying,” Even presses, shooting annoyed looks at his friends.

Isak feels a spike of anger in his veins at the rest of Even’s words.

It’s something Mahdi used to jest about when Isak would decline their drinking invitations, and it still rubs him the wrong way. He’d been joking, of course, but Isak never likes it when his friends carelessly imply that he's become too serious to have fun.

“They don’t bother me,” Isak retorts. “But if you want your friends back I’d gladly leave.”

Even’s eyes practically bug out in horror at his reaction. “I don’t mean - ” 

“It’s fine,” Isak says hastily, grabbing his things and hugging them to his chest. “I’m leaving anyway.”

Before he can turn to leave, Even snatches his arm in a firm grip. “Isak, wait.”

He is forced to look up into Even’s intense gaze.

“Stay,” Even swallows, his adam’s apple bobbing in his throat. “I want you to.” 

Isak stares at him for a long moment.

He stays. 

_

Isak has never felt more at ease; he almost feels as though he's been hanging out with his own friends. Adam, Elias, Mutta and Mikael are boisterous and fun; their conversations are pure entertainment, choreographed with jazz hands and teasing jabs tossed back and forth like the match point of a tennis game. Even seems a little nervous for some reason, but he, too, quickly slips into the banter like old skin.

They make sure to include him in their conversations, sharing iconic bits of their history that makes Isak laugh and laugh, until his belly hurts and his jaw aches.

Somehow, the conversation shifts towards the topic of Even’s latest crush. Isak listens attentively, trying to ignore the way his stomach churns whenever Mikael nudges Even by the ribs, or when Adam catcalls and winks at Elias conspiratiorally.

“This dude has absolutely no game,” Mutta is scoffing, jabbing a thumb towards Even. “He gets so fucking shy in front of the person he likes, he’s absolutely useless.”

“Guys - ” Even tries to cut in, but Isak shushes him. 

“I want to hear this,” he murmurs, ignoring the twist in his chest. He must be a masochist, Isak thinks. He leans forward as Mikael laughs at the sullen expression on Even’s face.

“Can you believe he couldn’t even work up his nerve to talk to his crush on the first day of school?” Elias rolls his eyes. “He had to wait until the semester’s mid-way through before he finally decided to do something.”

“I’m sitting right here, guys,” Even says drily, pointedly avoiding Isak’s gaze.

“And when he finally got the attention of his crush, he laughed right into his face,” Adam chortles, slapping his thigh loudly.

Isak feels his blood drumming in his ears. _His face._ Even likes boys. 

The revelation throws him off; he feels sickened by the slippery emotion threatening to burst out of his chest.

He swallows the feeling and locks it with his fists before it flops out of his shaking hands.

Isak forces a grin, addressing Adam. “Why did he laugh at him?”

There is a brief pause where the boys blink at one another, before turning to look at Isak. 

When Even clears his throat, Isak turns to him reflexively. “Because he was so incredibly endearing, I couldn’t help it,” Even admits, pinning Isak with an arresting gaze.

Isak feels his cheeks burn. He is vaguely aware of someone pretending to gag in the background, and he can’t help the slight bite to his tone. “Why haven’t you told him anything if you liked him so much?”

“Yeah, why haven’t you?” Mikael agrees loudly, nodding at Even.

Even huffs, “I didn’t know if he liked me back.”

Isak wants to laugh. He wants to sigh in exasperation and tell Even that it’s impossible for anyone not to like him. His easy smiles and kind eyes, the touch of warmth to his voice, the way he interacts so effortlessly with his friends. 

Instead, he rolls his eyes. “He won't know that you like him at all if you don’t say anything. Have you tried dropping hints, maybe?”

“Dropping hints,” Elias repeats incredulously. “This guy is about as subtle as a bull in a china shop. His crush was just painfully oblivious.”

“Can you believe he’d emptied the fucking tissue dispenser just to get his attention?” Mutta snorts. 

Blood drains from Isak’s face.

He snaps his head towards Even, only to see him fiercely studying the patterns on the table with a look of utter concentration.

“And for the past semester he’s been ordering so much coffee at the café where his crush works, he doesn't even drink anything else anymore,” Adam says.

Mutta nods vigorously, a glint in his eye. “And he forced us to visit the House of Horrors when he’d found out that his crush would be there at the eleventh fucking hour. We all didn’t have proper costumes, so he had to put on his mother’s fucking nightgown.”

“And he’d begged to Skype my sister when he found out that his crush had been classmates with her,” Elias grins. “It was a fucking 2-hour long session; my own mother doesn't even have that much to say to Sana.”

“And even though he’s allergic to dogs, he’s been volunteering at the animal hospital for the past two months, all because his crush wants to be a vet.” Mikael rolls his eyes fondly. 

Isak stares dumbly at the four pairs of eyes, then he flits his gaze over to Even, who finally lifts his head to look back at Isak with a weak smile.

“Ah, the tissue dispenser,” Adam wipes an invisible tear from the corner of his eye. “That was the last straw for us. That’s when we knew we had to step in.” 

Isak wrings his hands together on his lap. When he clears his throat, Even jumps slightly in his seat and the boys snicker softly. 

“So what were you supposed to be?” Isak asks quietly, facing Even. Even tilts his head in questioning look, until Isak clarifies, “During Halloween.”

The questioning look melts into a look of disbelief, before it gives way to a smile of exasperated fondness. “I was playing God, or something. I didn’t think it through.”

“I had wondered,” Isak muses, glancing shyly at him. “I’ve been calling you White Santa in my head.” 

“Aaaand that’s our cue to leave,” Adam says, sliding out of his seat. He nudges Elias and Mutta heavily. Elias has to drag Mikael, who is smiling dopily, away from the table. As they prance away, a silly line of arms around shoulders and merry whistling, the sounds of their playful banter trail off, blending into the faint buzz of the lunchtime crowd.

Isak shifts on his seat, trying to calm his heart.

“Isak,” Even murmurs softly.

When he lifts his head, there is a look of intense determination on Even’s face. He starts a little when Even grabs his hand suddenly.

“I still remember the day we met." Even begins, his eyes soft. "I’d been camping out in school for three days, working on my short film, feeling shitty about the world, and then you came up to me in your red snapback and green jacket, and you asked me, ‘How do I get to the printing room?’”

Even smiles gently as he continues, “And then as you turned to go, you smiled back at me and tossed me a bar of chocolate. You said, ‘You look like you need it.’ And that’s when I knew that I liked you.”

Isak studies the way his hand fits into Even’s. He doesn’t have pretty hands. They are rough and callused, too many knobs and ridges. His fingers are short relative to his large palm. But in Even’s hand, his hand looks almost delicate. Soft. 

“You must have been so frustrated,” Isak says. 

Even splutters, breaking into a low chuckle, “Oh, you have no idea. Sometimes, late at night, I scream into my pillow like an angsty teenager.”

Isak hesitates, then exhales, “Sorry I’m so difficult.”

The grip on his hand tightens, and Even is shaking his head rapidly. 

“I wasn’t frustrated with you. I was frustrated with me. I just get…so nervous around you sometimes. You make me want to be someone better. Cooler. Cleverer. More charming.” He knits his eyebrows, “But somehow I always seem to screw things up when I talk to you. I really didn’t expect Mikael and the guys to take matters into their own hands.” 

A slow smile creeps up Isak’s face. He wants to tell Even how much he already likes him, just for being the way he is. Instead, he says, “I like your friends.” 

Even huffs out a laugh, but the sound dies quickly. “And…how do you feel about me?”

Isak stares at him for a long moment.

The hopeful look slips off Even face as Isak gently extricates his hand from his palm.

Then, the look melts into a faint curiosity when Isak lifts his bag onto his lap and starts pulling out his notebook.

Quickly, Isak flips to a particular page, and turns it around so that Even can read the words. 

The first line is a messy scrawl, stiff lines and hard indents: _Sorry about yesterday. I was being an ass._ _You didn’t deserve it._

The second line is a sweeping wave, a soothing caress: _Don't worry about it, I get it. You must love those animals._

The last line is a rough intake of breath, a heartbeat away from being released: _Are you free Friday evening? I know a great pizza place. Give me a chance to properly apologise?_

Isak trains his eyes on the changing emotions on Even’s face as he scans the page quickly. He catches the tail end of surprise, before Even is blinking back up at him.

His heart stutters when Even’s face transforms into a bright expression that could rival the warmth of the sun. 

“Are you asking me out on a date?”

A helpless smile stretches across Isak's face.

“It’s a date.”

A delicious warmth spreads from the roots of his hair, across his chest and down his body when Even intertwines their fingers, brushing his knuckles tenderly.

Isak can’t wait for Friday.


	2. Chapter 2

**Mikael**

Even is staring at his phone.

He runs the pad of his index finger across the little contact picture – no bigger than the size of his thumb – with the dorkiest smile on his face. He is vaguely aware of his best friend, Mikael, rolling his eyes at him. But he doesn’t really care.

He'd much rather look at the blurry headshot of his crush programmed into his phone.

Isak's beautiful eyes – a soft, washed out green that reminds Even of his childhood toy dinosaur; the one that had gone through the wash too many times - are sadly out of focus in the picture. Isak’s smile is there; his teeth slightly spaced apart just the way Even adores. His slightly upturned nose is crinkled in the way that makes Even feel warm inside. But best of all, and the real reason why Even chose this picture, is that Isak had uploaded this photo the very day that they’d first bumped into each other.

Even had recognized the red snapback and the army-green bomber jacket immediately, when he’d been doing some slightly obsessive sleuthing on the Internet for information about his crush. The blurry picture was taken mid-laugh; most likely by a friend after a good joke. Isak had captioned the picture with an emoji of two beers clinking together. As far as he knows, the world's sweetest crinkly-eyed smile probably has nothing to do with him, but he can’t help fantasizing that Isak might have had uploaded the picture because the day they’d met was as groundbreaking for him as it had been for Even. It’s the same reason why Even likes to zone out while staring at the picture sometimes, and replay the day they’d met on an endless loop in his brain.

But that’s not really why he’s pulled out his phone to stare at Isak’s picture this time. Not really. The real reason – which is also responsible for the massive havoc in his nervous system – is that this contact picture stolen from Facebook is due for a change.

They are about to have their first date.

Will Isak let him snap a cute picture during their date? Will he take a selfie if he’d asked? Or better still, will he let Even kiss him on the cheek _and_ take a selfie for the new picture?

“Dude, quit staring at the damn picture. You’re about to meet the guy in the flesh in…less than four hours,” Mikael deadpans.

“I know that,” Even retorts, biting back a sappy grin at the thought. “Can’t you just….be my best friend and let me drown in foolish thoughts before I go meet the guy of my dreams?”

“As your best friend,” Mikael drums his fingers against the table, clearing his throat. “I think it’s my responsibility to tell you to tone it down a little so you don’t freak poor Isak out. I know you’re a go big or go home kinda guy. But sometimes too much is…. _too much_ , if you get my drift.”

Even sets his phone down and frowns. “What do you mean ‘too much’?”

Mikael rolls his eyes - a frequent occurrence, Even is starting to note – and raises his eyebrows pointedly. “Ok, so remember when you first found out that Isak was working at Café Kose and you started getting your coffees there every single fucking day?”

“What about that?”

“I’ll concede that it’s pretty sweet. In a creepy, over-caffeinated way. But it got too much when you started planning these movie meet-cutes where you pretended that they’d given you the wrong order to get Isak’s attention,” Mikael snorts. “And instead of frolicking off into the sunset, hand-in-hand with your one true love, you only managed to get the manager pissed at you and Isak remained clueless as ever.”

“To be fair, I stopped after I realized it wasn’t working,” Even points out.

“To be honest, you only stopped when the manager started recognizing you. That’s wasting perfectly good coffee.”

“Ok, so that didn’t really work out,” Even admits, thumbing his lip thoughtfully. “But who’s to say, if the manager hadn’t gotten in the way, that Isak wouldn’t have eventually reciprocated?”

“The thing is, not everything has to be epic like the movies. I get the feeling that Isak’s a pretty chill kinda guy, y’know? You could have gone straight up to him, asked for his number, and we would have saved all this time trying to get his attention.”

“Mik, don’t you see? Everything was set up,” Even opens his palms, sweeping the air in a dramatic gesture. “Cute barista,” He waves his phone around - “…meets coffee-drinker,” he gestures to himself with his free hand. “You can't make a movie without coffee."

“You said the same thing about cigarettes. And telephone booths."

Even rolls his eyes. "Yes, but - I mean, come on! It's coffee! The focal point of every classic romance."

"Well, what I’m trying to say is, you don’t have to keep trying to direct the next scene. Maybe take it easy, see where things go. Sometimes magic happens when you least expect it.”

Even huffs out a laugh, shaking his head at his friend. “Ok, maybe you’re right.”

He looks down at the contact name on his phone. Isak grins back at him. His smile, even in pixels, is blinding.

* * *

 

**Mutta & Adam**

“So, where are you planning to take Isak on your grand ol’ date?” Mutta is asking, words muffled around a sandwich.

Even shrugs, staring at the digital clock on his phone. Two more hours till he’s officially done with school. Two more hours till he’s free to meet Isak.

Two more hours till their first date.

“Isak suggested this pizza place that he knows.”

“Pizza?” Adam crows. “Just pizza? And you’re going with it? What happened to your big, romantic plan to bring him to the rooftop of Radisson Blu Plaza after ordering mini burgers for room service?”

“That’s hardly first date material,” Even jabs Adam in the ribs with his elbow. “I don’t think Isak will take having our first date at a presidential suite too well.”

Adam stares at Even for a long moment, before laughing suddenly, “I can’t believe you’re finally talking sense for once.”

The boys don’t discuss the fact that Even’s already plotting anniversary ideas when he’s barely even had a date with Isak.

“Ok, ok,” Mutta says slowly, mirth dancing in his eyes. “What about your swimming pool sequence, then? You know, the one where you’ll have your first kiss underwater like DiCaprio and Claire Danes did.”

Even groans as Adam chortles, slapping Mutta heavily on the shoulder.

“Fuck,” Even rubs his face. “I just mentioned that in passing!”

“Don’t bother pretending with us, bro,” Adam says, traces of laughter still in his voice. “You and I both know that you weren’t really just saying it. You probably already have the whole damn sequence in your head.”

Even says nothing, but his cheeks warm traitorously.

“Ok, what about Moulin Rouge, then? If you aren’t going for Romeo and Juliet,” Mutta says, quirking a corner of his lips. “Maybe you can serenade him with sappy love tunes.”

“We both know that Even has shit music taste,” Adam points out, smirking at Mutta. “He’s gonna sing something from Gabrielle and Isak will be totally turned off.”

Even huffs in mock outrage. “I’ll have you know that I have an excellent and diverse music taste, and I’m sure Isak would agree,” he trails off uncertainly. “But no, I don’t think serenading him will be a good idea for a first date.” He frowns a little. "He seems like a...like a practical kind of guy, you know?"

“Finally got his boy, and got his head out of the clouds at the same time,” Mutta pokes Even teasingly. Even swats him away.

“I don’t have my head in the clouds all the time,” Even rolls his eyes. “It’s called being romantic. At which the both of you – quite evidently – are failing.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Adam waves a hand dismissively. “So, Romeo, what else do you have planned for your big date?”

Even chews on his lip. Then he shrugs. “I had a lot of ideas, but Mikael told me to take it down a notch. And now I guess I’m out of ideas.”

Adam and Mutta stare at him, jaws slack.

“Seriously? And you actually listened for once?” Adam demands. “So, what? Hands off the steering wheel completely? You’re not taking the reins for this one?”

Even purses his lips. Shrugs.

To be quite honest, Even has been having an internal freak-out every few seconds. There’s something strangely terrifying about relinquishing control over something that he so desperately wants to be perfect. All Isak has texted him are the details to meet. They haven’t discussed in detail what they actually want to do for the rest of their date, and the last thing that Even wants to do is irritate his crush by bugging him to let Even micromanage the date course.

Even drops his gaze onto his half-eaten sandwich.

The flutter in his stomach starts acting up; thin-winged butterflies mutating into wild, frenzied bats in belfries. He wants to be suave and easygoing and cool as a cucumber for their first date. But what if Isak gets to know him, only to find out that he doesn’t really like him after all?

Mutta and Adam pick up on the subtle change of mood and they exchange looks briefly.

“Dude, you know we’re just giving you shit, right?” Mutta softens his voice. “Isak’s a cool guy. You’re going to have a great time. And then he’s going to be so sickeningly in love with you, you’d be wishing you had some space to yourself.”

“No, he wouldn’t,” Adam rolls his eyes.

Even breaks into laughter in spite of himself.

Adam grins and claps him on the shoulder. “I’m not just saying this because you’re my friend. But you’re a great guy. Anyone would be lucky to have you.” Then, he proceeds to wipe his palm on his jeans, and twists his body to pretend that he’s throwing up. “Ok that’s some corny shit. Way over my personal threshold. You’re only ever going to hear that once.”

Even’s nose starts to prickle. He laughs loudly, ridiculously, and shoves Adam hard. “Shit, who knew you had that in you, Malik? Whatever happened to 'romance is but a gimmick fabricated by greeting card companies'? And I thought Yousef was our resident love guru?”

“All together now,” Mutta cries out. He wraps an arm around Even and his other arm around Adam, pulling his friends into a group hug. “Awwwwww.”

“Fuck off,” Adam scowls, but his lips are twitching. He pushes Mutta off him and grabs his lunch, chewing on his sandwich in earnest.

“Damn, I miss Yousef,” Mutta says, laughing. “He’s going to eat this up. Adam dishing out love advice."

“Don’t fucking tell him about what I said,” Adam warns. “He’ll give me shit over it.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Even nods, patting Adam’s arm with a huge grin stretched across his face. “We’ll let you keep your reputation as our no-nonsense, otherworldly sage.”

“You bet I am,” Adam nods. “And I’m always right.”

* * *

 

**Elias**

It all goes to hell an hour before Even is supposed to meet Isak.

Even had been nervously excited. Excitedly nervous. He’d been picking out his outfit for the date – a dark green button down shirt with the charcoal grey pants that an ex had mentioned made his ass look good. He’d been styling his hair in his usual quiff. He’d put on some cologne – nothing too thick or spicy; he just wanted to smell good in case Isak ended up sticking his nose into his collarbone. (Or not. You know, it’s always good to be prepared.)

He’d made sure he would be at least half an hour early. He’d made sure he had enough time, so that he wouldn’t end up rushing and arriving outside the pizza place sweating like a pig.

Then, on the cab, just a few intersections from his destination, a loud crash jerks him alert from his daydream of Isak’s pale, forest-green eyes.

He grabs onto the leather seats instinctively. Half a second later, he realizes that the crash isn’t from his taxi.

“What happened?”

“An accident further ahead, I think,” the driver tells him, shaking his head.

Even frowns. Winds down the window. Pokes his head outside.

He gasps when he notices a pool of blood on the gravel. A motorcycle has fallen by the sidewalk.

He pushes the door open, scrambles out of the cab, and runs towards the source of the accident.

His cab driver trails behind him anxiously.

Crowds are gathering around the injured motorist, who is bleeding profusely but still looks conscious. Two people claiming to be medical attendants are tending to the motorist.

Even kneels beside the other casualty – a chocolate-skinned Labrador. The dog is still breathing faintly, but it is lying in a pool of blood. The road around the body is rapidly dyed red.

He catches bits and pieces of murmurs from pedestrians.

_“The dog just ran out onto the road…”_

_“I think the motorcycle was speeding…”_

_"Do you think the dog’s dead?”_

He whips out his phone, intending to call the police, only for his phone to die on him. He curses under his breath.

Gritting his teeth in frustration, Even turns towards the cab driver behind him. “Can you call the police?”

“Yes, of course.” The driver nods jerkily.

Even tries to avoid shifting the Labrador, but he feels around for a dog tag, or a collar. There isn’t any.

“Does anyone own this Labrador?” Even calls out, swiveling his head desperately towards the pedestrians, who are gathering around the scene. “Brown skin, female. I think she’s lost her collar.”

Whispers swell around him, but no one steps forward.

Even turns to his cab driver again. “Could you perhaps dial the number of the animal hospital?” He rattles off the number of the one where he’s been volunteering.

When the call connects, Even plucks the phone from his driver's hand.

“Hey, Sonja,” he says, his voice shaking.

“Even? Is that you?”

“Listen, there’s been an accident. A couple of streets down from the hospital. A Labrador’s injured. I…I don’t know what to do.”

“Shit. Is the owner around?”

“No, I don’t think so. She doesn't come with a collar or a dog tag. She’s bleeding a lot. I think she injured her legs.”

“Is she breathing?”

“Yes. Very faintly.”

“Is she conscious?”

“No.”

“What about her body? Is she still warm?”

“Yes. Although…her gums are quite pale.”

“Ok, can you check her airway? Is there obstruction?”

“No.”

“Ok, Even,” Sonja says gently. “Have you got a necktie? Or a sock? Something that could be used as a muzzle.”

“I…I have a sock,” Even swallows, his heart pounding in his chest.

“You’re going to have to perform artificial respiration, ok? Now, I want you to lay the dog on its side. Check if it has any head or back injuries first. If she doesn't, gently pull the neck and head forward.”

“Ok,” Even says. He checks the Labrador, making sure not to move her too much. “I think she only hurt her legs. There aren’t any external injuries on her head and back.”

“Ok, open her mouth, check if there is anything obstructing the airway again. If there isn’t, close her mouth gently and check her pulse.”

“Yeah, ok,” Even says, sandwiching the phone between his shoulder and his cheek as he proceeds to check the dog’s airway.

“Ok, hold the dog’s jaw and close its mouth. You’ve got your sock ready, right? Wrap it snugly around the snout and tie it under the jaw.”

“Yes, ok.”

“Ok, you’ve seen us do this a couple of times at the hospital, right? Take a deep breath, seal your mouth over the dog’s snout. It’s gotta be airtight. Then you exhale, remove your mouth and let her chest go down.”

“Yes, got it.”

“You want to do this 10 to 15 times per minute. Until the dog reacts, and you should check the color of her gums improve. Remember that she might become aggressive when she regains consciousness. Don’t worry, we’re on our way. You can do this, Even.”

“Great, thanks Sonja.”

Even hands the phone back to the cab driver, who is watching him wordlessly.

With his stomach at his feet and his heart in his throat, Even performs artificial respiration on the dog, the way he’s seen the vet at the animal hospital do it.

Barely a few minutes later, the Labrador starts to jerk awake. The passers-by who have gathered around the scene start to cheer with a small smattering of applause.

Even sags into his own weight, swiping his forehead with the back of his hand.

The police arrive quickly at the scene, and the motorist is also carried away into an ambulance.

Everything happens in a dizzying blur.

By the time Even collects himself, he is standing at the animal hospital, giving his statement to the police. The Laborador is undergoing treatment, and Even is trying his best to answer the policeman’s questions.

“Can you tell us what were you doing when the accident happened?”

“I was - ” Even breaks off, widening his eyes. “Shit, I was about to go on my date.”

He looks down at himself. His green shirt is stained in blood. One of his socks is gone. His pants – the one that supposedly made his ass look good – is creased and soiled with blood at the knees.

Suddenly, for a horrifying moment, Even thinks he’s on the verge of tears.

He fishes for his phone, wanting to call Isak, only to remember that his phone has died. So much for being well-prepared for the date; he's actually forgotten to charge his goddamn phone. Isak must have been worried sick. He must have been waiting for –

Even glances at the wall clock.

Fuck, Isak would have waited for two hours with no news.

Or worse still, he might have already gone home.

Great, just when he’s finally given up on wanting epic, movie moments with Isak, he gets the drama he’s always wanted – complete with car accidents and blood on his hands. Except that he’s possibly also just lost the love of his life.

A hand touches his arm lightly. “Even, you ok?”

He turns around to see Sonja looking worriedly at him. “We’ve tracked down the owner. The Labrador’s an assistance dog. Her owner’s blind and deaf. You did a great job, Even.”

Even huffs, sinking into an uncomfortable plastic chair. “It’s what anyone would’ve done,” he replies sourly.

The policeman claps him on the shoulder. “You did good, son. Thanks for your help.”

He is vaguely aware of the policeman exchanging words with Sonja, before the both of them leave him to drown in his misery.

His eyes are smarting and his hands are shaking with little tremors. Burying his face in his palms, Even closes his eyes and tries to block out the torrent of emotions swirling in him.

“Hey!” A strong hand grasps his shoulder. “Even, bro, what the hell are you doing here?”

Even lifts his head and sees Elias through his glassy-eyes.

“Aren’t you supposed to be on your date,” Elias checks his phone. “Two hours ago?”

“Yeah,” Even sighs, gesturing to his shirt. “Except I had to go and be a hero and save a dog’s life and now Isak probably hates me forever.”

Elias stares at him. “You’re fucking kidding me.”

“I wish I were,” Even tells him morosely.

“No, I mean, you think he hates you? He can’t - Fuck. Go after him. Call him!”

Even shakes his head. “He’s probably already home, cursing me in his head for wasting his time.”

“Dude,” Elias squats down, locking gazes with him. “Trust me. Isak is probably still waiting for you.”

“Who the fuck waits for another person for two hours? Without any response?”

“What about you, would you wait for him?” Elias demands.

Without missing a beat, Even scoffs in indignance. "Of course I will!"

Elias shoots him a pointed look and starts shaking his shoulders. “Quit moping like a lovesick hero. You’re not Romeo. Juliet isn’t dead. You’re Even, and you've still got a date with Isak.”

“I - ” Even stutters. “I need to call him if I don’t see him there. But my phone died.”

Elias rolls his eyes so hard, Even thinks they’re going to roll right out of his head.

“Take this,” Elias pushes his phone into his hand. “His number’s right under yours.”

Even blinks, standing up. He scrolls through the contact list and finds his name. Right under his phone number is an entry named “Even’s Isak”.

He turns on his heel, blood pumping in his veins. Then he stops. Turns around. “Wait, what are you doing here?”

“I'm working on my own story,” Elias grins, twisting his head around to nod pointedly at Sonja. They catch each other’s eyes.

Even smiles, pivots on his heels, runs; every stride is a new sentence into his love story.

* * *

 

**Isak**

His heart is beating so quickly in his chest that when it trips suddenly, Even thinks time freezes. For just a millisecond.

Because he’s _there_.

He’s still beautiful. And still _there_. Waiting.

A rush of emotions swell in his chest and up his throat. Even swallows as he steps towards Isak.

Isak doesn't see him at first. His eyes are luminous, but a little sad. He is dressed in a denim jacket and he’s got his red snapback turned backwards. Bits of his golden hair peek out from beneath his hat. He is digging his toe into the gravel. Even thinks he can write pages and pages of screenplays about this boy. Stories that he’d never tire of telling, or savouring.

When Isak spots Even, his eyes widen dramatically. “What the fuck?”

“I can explain -”

“Are you hurt?” Isak demands, inspecting his shirt critically. He scrunches up his face, paces around Even’s stiffened body. “Is this your blood?”

In spite of himself, Even laughs, relaxing marginally. “No, it’s not my blood. I…I was involved in an accident.”

Isak’s eyes go round again, impossibly larger than before.

“No, no – I mean, I wasn’t in the accident. I was a witness, you could say. And I rescued a Labrador. She was hurt. And I had to give her CPR. And so…” He pinches two corners of his button down with his fingers and lifts the fabric slightly, shrugging.

“And you’re ok?” Isak bites his lip, his eyes narrowing slightly as he studies Even’s face.

“Yes I am,” Even exhales. “I…I was freaking out actually. When I realized the time. I swear I was planning to be on time. To be early. Then this motorcycle came swooping past and there was a loud crash and I -”

He sucks a sharp breath when Isak throws his arms around his torso, clinging tightly to him.

“Thank goodness you’re ok,” Isak murmurs. His voice is so quiet that Even isn’t sure if the words were meant for him.

Gently, Even tries to pry his arms away. “Isak, I’m…dirty. And sweaty. I’m…pretty gross actually.”

“I don’t care,” Isak says, gripping onto him stubbornly.

Eventually, Even sighs and wraps his arms around Isak, running his hands up and down his back. He feels it when Isak exhales.

“I knew you’d come,” Isak says into his neck.

Even buries his face into Isak’s golden curls. “How? My phone died. I had no way to call you. I wish I remembered your number." He pauses and frowns. "I’m going to have your number burned into my brain tonight.”

Isak laughs. The sound triggers a pleasant ripple up his spine that makes Even shiver.

“I just knew you would,” he says simply. “You’re the guy who spent weeks after weeks stalking me at the coffee shop. You put on your mother’s nightgown just to see me during Halloween. You...you rescued a dog even though you’re allergic to them.”

His voice tapers off with an almost incredulous huff.

Even laughs, but he quickly sobers up and pulls back slightly so that he can look into Isak’s eyes. He could stare at these eyes forever.

“I...I had this whole fantasy sequence about our first date," he confesses. "We’d sneak into an old classmate’s house and kiss in the pool at his basement. We’d watch a movie and steal kisses at the back of the theatre. We’d go to the skate park and kiss under the stars.”

Isak wrinkles his nose. “I’m sensing a pattern about these fantasies.”

Even grins, but the smile quickly falters. “But in all of those fantasies I’d be smelling good and looking dashing. And we’d have our bellies full from dinner at this fine pizza establishment you recommended. Not…like this.”

He gestures at himself, but he keeps an arm wrapped around Isak’s waist, unwilling to let him go.

“Like this?” Isak repeats, his eyes glittering.

“Like…sweat down my back, blood on my shirt, hair stuck in every direction, and worst of all, no matter how many times I rinsed my mouth earlier, I probably still have dog breath,” He mutters the last part under his breath.

“I think you mean like, the world’s handsomest guy with the kindest eyes and the best smile,” Isak says shyly. He glances up at Even. “You’re amazing.”

Even laughs, nuzzling Isak’s hair. “I’m still sorry. You must have been worried.”

Isak doesn’t say anything. But he retracts his hold onto Even and steps backward. Before Even can protest, Isak smiles at him.

“I had all those fantasies too,” Isak admits, his eyes becoming very soft as he looks up at Even. “I didn’t know what I had to do to impress you. I was worried you’d find me boring the more you knew about me.”

“I could never -”

“I know you wouldn’t,” Isak cuts in, grinning. “It’s the same way I feel about you. I could never not like you, Even. Even if you’ve got blood all over your shirt. You don’t have to be perfect in front of me." He ducks his head slightly. "I guess what I'm saying is...I like you, just the way you are.”

Even stills. He watches with rapt attention as Isak slowly, bravely, lifts his chin to meet his gaze.

“That’s what I wanted to tell you yesterday. But I didn’t get to.”

“I like you too," Even tells him softly.

Then, very slowly, softly, before Even realizes what is happening, their lips touch.

Isak is so warm and so careful as he places his palms against Even’s face. His lips are dry, and slightly chapped. Even can feel the faint brush of Isak’s peach fuzz against his chin. A thrill shoots through his ribs. This boy – this wonderful, amazing, beautiful boy – wants him.

They don’t deepen the kiss, but Even feels it right till the tips of his toes.

When they finally pull back, they grin stupidly at each other for a long moment.

“Ok, now what? The pizza place is closed. I don’t know where else we can find food,” Even says, hunching his shoulders. “You must be starving.”

“Um, I was thinking…I don’t know if it’s too early. Or too fast, so you can say no if you think it’s too fast, but I -”

“What is it, Isak?” Even asks, feeling a rush of fondness spread throughout his body as he smiles at the bumbling, blushing boy before him.

“Do you want to come to my place? My mamma is going to be home, and she would love to meet you. And I could, er, whip up something simple.”

“You can cook?” Even raises an eyebrow. The beginnings of a smile sneak across his face.

“I’m not very good yet,” Isak confesses. “But my mamma’s been trying to teach me.”

“And here I was, thinking that there’s no way I could like you more,” Even declares, tapping Isak’s nose playfully with a finger.

Isak laughs, and ducks away. He takes out his phone and snaps a quick picture before Even can even blink.

“That’s perfect,” Isak says, fiddling with his phone.

Even peeks over his shoulder to see that Isak’s phone wallpaper has been set to the new picture. In it, Even is smiling so hard that his irises have disappeared. “Jonas is going to give us shit for being one of those couples. But I don’t care.”

“One of those couples?”

“You know,” Isak squirms slightly. “Those couples that call each other pet names and put heart emojis all over their contact details and set their wallpapers to each other’s pictures.”

“Just what I wanted,” Even hums. “You’re going to have to let me take a picture of you, baby.”

Isak chuckles, blushing pink. "Ok, and what's my contact name going to be?"

"You're going to have to tell me what's _mine_ first," Even raises his eyebrows.

Isak splutters, squirms some more, and then huffs in resignation. He says something very quietly.

"I didn't catch that. What did you say?"

Isak lifts his head. Stares right at Even. With eyes the color of the forest after the rain. "Man of my dreams."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ok, so I'm absolutely floored by the response last chapter. Over 400 kudos and 100 bookmarks??? Thank you so much. I hope this chapter is enough to show my gratitude. I've read all your comments and I love them all. Everyone has been so kind and supportive. There were requests for an epilogue, as well as for Even's POV, so I decided to combine both in this chapter LOL. 
> 
> I really enjoyed writing this, and I'm so glad you had fun reading too! I'm not a vet, so the medical procedure was derived from Google. I hope i didn't make too many mistakes with that. 
> 
> I can't get enough of the Balloon boys. Or Evak + Balloon boys.

**Author's Note:**

> This story is unbeta-ed, so mistakes are mine.
> 
> I love the idea of the Balloon Squad helping Even in his quest to woo Isak, I hope you enjoyed reading this as much as I did writing it. 
> 
> I quite like the idea of a sweet fic of Evak just getting to know each other, before getting into any physical intimacy as an established couple. So, this was planned to be a one-shot, but now I'm thinking of writing an epilogue for the date (where there may be a kiss or two). Let me know what you think!


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